


Sugar In Your Coffee

by TheGoliathBeetle



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista!Antonio, Customer!Lovino, Flirting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 17:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoliathBeetle/pseuds/TheGoliathBeetle
Summary: Antonio is a bored barista. Lovino is an attractive customer. Flirting ensues. There are terrible coffee-related puns. You have been warned. -Oneshot-





	Sugar In Your Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for @popcherrypop on tumblr!
> 
> The prompt: It’s a really, really slow day and you’re my only customer. You’re trying to do work on your laptop but I am really. bored. So I keep on chatting to you about junk and using my best pick-up lines on you and you’re trying really hard not to be amused (but I can see you smiling!)
> 
> Fandom/Pairing: Hetalia/ Spamano
> 
> (Fun fact: there’s a coffee called an Antoccino and a coffee called an ‘espresso romano’. My point is that not only can we, as a fandom, have a Spamano coffee shop AU, but we could quite possibly also have Spamano coffee AU where they are both beverages xD).

Antonio had been staring at the same patch of blank wall for twenty minutes. Some people thrived on silence and solitude, on being alone with their thoughts. Antonio hated it. He couldn’t think of anything more singularly boring than not having anyone to talk to, or anything to do.

And there truly was nothing to  _do_ today. He was the only one on shift. It was mid-morning in the middle of the week. Usually, the coffee shop was busy because it was right outside a university campus, but classes were done for the year. Most of his regulars had gone home, and even those who hung around kept their distance today.  There was only one customer here, and he was the silent sort.

Antonio categorised his customers. There were couples, usually too involved with each other to pay any attention to anyone else. There were old people (Antonio’s personal favourite category, because they loved a little chat and they always called him a ‘very nice boy’.) There were businessmen, dull and uninteresting, but they always had expensive orders. And there were the silent ones. These could be students, artists, or backpackers. They always lingered over one coffee, typing away on their laptops, never looking up.

The customer in question today was sitting by the window, his face glowing in the sunshine. It caught on his hair, dusting it with flecks of gold between brown locks. His eyes were the exact colour of honey. He was very,  _very_ pretty. But Antonio was also taken by his intense gaze, slender wrists, the lean curve of his cheek.

His name was Lovino.

Antonio knew this because he’d ordered a cappuccino an hour ago, that still sat before him, more or less untouched. A paper sticker bearing the letters  _L-O-V-I-N-O_ was still prominently visible at the side of the cup.

Antonio sighed, bored, as he checked his phone for the sixteenth time. Francis was busy, Gilbert’s cell was broken, and there were no social media updates to keep him occupied. His group chats were all silent. (Antonio had dropped a ‘ _Hey guys! What’s up?_ ’ on all of them, to no response.) He’d cleaned the counters twice now, taken out the trash, washed all the dishes, and even cleaned the coffee machine. There. Was. Nothing. To. Do.

Suddenly, movement.

Lovino had finally taken a sip from his cappuccino, only to cuss, grimace, and set it down. Antonio peered at him from behind the counter. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“What?” Lovino seemed startled at the sound of his voice, but he gradually came to. “No, no, it’s just become cold. My fault, I wasn’t paying attention.” He reached for his wallet, perhaps to order a fresh one.

“I can make you another, if you like.” Antonio smiled. “For free.”

Lovino had been halfway out of his chair, wallet in hand, when he paused and regarded Antonio curiously. “Are you sure? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“Nah.” Antonio turned to bring out a fresh cup. “I’ve worked here for years, I can get away with it.” He winked at Lovino, like they were sharing a secret.

“Oh.” Lovino’s lips tilted upwards slightly. “Uh, thanks.”

“No worries.”

A silence descended upon them again, only briefly punctuated by the whirring of the coffee machine, the whooshing and bubbling of the milk. The air was filled with the rich smell of arabica, a scent Antonio never tired of. Sometimes his friends would say that the aroma of coffee grounds followed him like an aura. It was as good a compliment as he could get.

Antonio brought the fresh cup out and placed it before Lovino, grinning as he did.

“Thanks. I could have taken it myself, though,” Lovino added sheepishly.

“Really, it’s fine.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Drink this before it gets cold, though!”

“Ha-ha. Yeah.”

Antonio went back to the counter, smiling to himself. Even that little bit of human interaction made him feel much better. He was a social soul, after all. And he loved getting to know new people, something that his job easily allowed for.

For a while again, the café was silent. The only sound was Antonio’s own breathing, the tap-tap-tap of Lovino’s laptop’s keyboard, the clink of a ceramic cup against its saucer. The ennui was returning. Antonio pulled at his face, stretching his cheeks down as he fought the urge to groan loudly. He was so  _bored._

He looked over at Lovino again. Such a handsome boy.

“Is the cappuccino all right?” he asked.

“It’s great.” Lovino didn’t look up from his screen. “Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.” Pause. “So…uh, what are you working on?”

Lovino lifted his gaze from his laptop to Antonio’s face. His expression was hard to read. Curiosity? Annoyance? His eyes were a cool mask of apparent indifference, but there was the smallest twitch—the beginning of a frown—growing on his lips. “Just some stuff for my grandfather.”

“Ooh, that’s cool!”

“Uh-huh.” Lovino whipped back to his screen.

“So…Lovino, is that an Italian name?”

“Yeah…sort of,” he seemed to debate this with himself. “Yeah, basically.”

“Ah,” Antonio nodded. “I love Italian.” He beamed at Lovino. “Coffee, that is.”

Lovino raised an eyebrow. “Is that right?” he said after a moment. Antonio thought he saw a fleeting smirk, like a challenge issued, glance across Lovino’s lips. But the expression was gone as quickly as it came, leaving Antonio momentarily winded.

No matter. He could try again.

“So, you work for your grandfather?”

Lovino sighed. “No. I’m just helping him edit an article.”

“Oh wow! Are you a writer? I see so many writers come in here. They’re fascinating people.”

Setting the laptop down, Lovino sat back in his chair, cappuccino to his lips. He regarded Antonio with faint interest. “I’m not a writer, but I am fluent in English. He is not. I’m rewriting bits of his piece.”

“Ahhh,” Antonio nodded sagely. “You must be good at  _espresso_ -ing yourself.”

“Oh god,” Lovino muttered, softly, but definitely loud enough for Antonio to hear. His cheeks were an alarming shade of scarlet as he looked back at his computer. “ _Espresso-ing_? Seriously?”

“Oh, you don’t like my puns? I know I can be a bit stupid sometimes. I’m a real doppio.”

Antonio couldn’t stop the chortle that escaped him when Lovino bit his bottom lip and covered his face with a hand. “A doppio is a double shot of espresso,” he added helpfully, just in case.

“I know that, Antoccino.”

Antonio’s heart sped. “What did you call me?”

“Antoccino?” Lovino smirked at him. “One part milk, one part espresso. You should know that.”

A plume of shyness dusted Antonio’s cheeks. The way he said  _Antoccino._ It sounded so…precious. Like a term of endearment. Like ‘darling’, or ‘honey’, or ‘sweetheart’. Was he overthinking this? Reading too much into it?

“Antoccino, huh…” he mumbled, blushing furiously but trying to hide that under a confident grin. “I like that nickname a latte. Well, I like  _you_ a latte.”

The comment was greeted by an eye-roll as Lovino pointedly looked at his screen. “That,” he declared, “was terrible.”

“I didn’t know someone so sweet could say something so bitter.” Antonio leaned forward on the counter, cheek in hands, his green eyes alight with humour. “Speaking of sweet, I notice you haven’t put any sugar in your cappuccino. Which makes sense, of course. I’m sure your tongue is a natural sweetener.”

“Oh  _mio DIO_!” Lovino dropped his cup down on the table and stood. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I just think there’s something brewing between us.” Antonio winked. “Brewing, geddit?”

Lovino was glaring him down with his hands on his hips. “What makes you think I’m single, or into guys?”

“Who wouldn’t be into  _this_?” And Antonio gestured to himself, unable to stifle a playful little giggle. He revelled in how Lovino’s cheeks flushed.

“Idiot,” he muttered, sitting back down. His whole face, including his ears and neck, were red. Antonio considered it a victory. He was on a roll now, he needed to come up with more café puns, at least a few more ridiculous pick-up lines. He’d already used up the handful he knew. Strangely enough, working here for as long as he had, Antonio hadn’t actually flirted with anyone like this before. Perhaps before, he’d been younger and shyer and convinced that if he tried it, he’d lose his job. He also remembered being a little more insecure, thinking he was ugly and unworthy of the romance everyone sought. Now, of course, he was older and over that mindset. He liked Lovino. Lovino was attractive, and intense, and strangely enough, a good sport about this silly conversation.

“I started working here three years ago,” Antonio said for no reason, as he flicked through his google for more stupid pick-up lines. “You know we do open mic nights every Thursday? We get a lot of spoken word poets. I don’t really understand poetry. There’s some music too! I’ve played my guitar once, that was fun. Ah, here’s one! I’m going to start watching my caffeine intake, because baby you make my heart palpi—”

“You play the guitar?” Lovino interrupted, just as Antonio finished, “-tate.”

Antonio lowered his phone. “Yeah! I was in a band in high school! We weren’t very  _good_ , of course,” he laughed effacingly. “But I did keep up the habit. Do you play?”

“Uh…” Lovino murmured self-consciously, scratching the back of his head. “A little bit. Well.” He cleared his throat. “I’m actually in a music programme.”

“ _Really_?” Antonio cried, almost jumping in his eagerness to know more. “Oh boy, oh boy, you have to tell me! Where? Are you like, some kind of musical genius? Like Mozart or something? Are you in a band? Where do you play? Can I listen?”

With each question, Lovino leaned back, his eyes widening in obvious panic at such unexpected enthusiasm. “Where? Just here, at the university. I start in the fall. I’m not a genius, at all. Seriously. I’m not in a band. I play in my room. And…sure, you can listen, if you like.” And as the words left his tongue, he went almost purple with embarrassment. “I mean—not in my room! I can—I have it on my laptop!”

Antonio was smirking at him unflinchingly when Lovino covered his face and groaned. “Just kill me.”

“We can play with other things in your room,” Antonio replied innocently, still leaning forward, now on both his hands.

“Oh, shut up.” Lovino pulled open his iTunes. “Here. It’s a violin piece I composed.”

The music that filled the café was elegant and sad and powerful, it started out soft, delicate, and gradually reached crescendo, and Antonio found his heart racing and his breath coming short, as the trill of the violin painted the air. Lovino shrank into his seat, looking at his shoes, hugging himself.

For a good minute afterwards, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, Lovino cleared his throat. “Anyway. Yeah, that’s basically it.”

“It’s amazing,” Antonio whispered. He had stepped out from behind the counter, approaching Lovino like he might approach a benevolent god. “You  _are_ a genius.”

“I’m really not,” he mumbled, his awkwardness so thick and palpable, it made Antonio second-guess his own reactions. Maybe he was making things worse? Antonio swallowed, trying to loosen up by putting his hands in the pockets of his apron.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” That sentence came with weight. A flurry of insecurities long-buried swept up in his chest. Antonio loved people, but he used to doubt if people really liked him very much. And a flicker of that old sentiment had returned. “I do think you’re really cool, though, and it would be nice if you were studying here, and we saw more of each other. That’s all I wanted to say.”

In a flash, Lovino was on his feet. He marched towards the counter and dumped a handful of coins down between the stack of menus and the cash register. “I’d like another coffee.”

“Oh!” Antonio jumped to action, visibly shaken by the change in behaviour. “Sure, what kind?” he asked as he scrambled behind the counter to ring him up. In Lovino’s stare, there was a flash of something hard and sure and determined. To the untrained eye—like Antonio’s—he almost appeared angry.

“Whatever kind you like.”

“Whatever kind I—hey!” Antonio started, and then laughed. “Are you buying me a coffee?”

“Well, a latte has changed between us since we started this conversation,” Lovino said, feigning nonchalance. “And I thought we could give this a  _shot._ ” His smirk was dark and playful. “Shot. Get it?”

“ _Do I_!” Antonio cheered.

Antonio loved cold brews because he couldn’t fully wrap his mind around them. He knew how to make them, obviously, but it tickled him that a coffee this cold could also be this bitter. Every time he took a sip, he expected to taste beer, not the crisp, smoky taste of caffeine. Lovino watched, leaning onto the counter just a little, following Antonio’s every move.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a cold brew kind of guy, Antoccino.”

He nearly dropped his glass at the nickname.

“Oh, do you get flustered when I call you that?” Lovino jeered. “Two can play this game, Antoccino, amore mio.”

“Now that’s just…” Antonio couldn’t control the heat rising on his cheeks. “Now you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely, but not maliciously.” In Lovino’s tone was a little bit of amusement, a little bit of fondness. He pushed the money towards Antonio as Antonio finished making the drink. “If you flirt with a customer in a coffee shop, you should be prepared to face the consequences.” Lovino crossed his arms. “Customers can flirt back.”

Good lord Antonio liked him so much.

“You know I’m still on the clock, right?”

Lovino glanced around the coffee shop, at the dead empty street outside.  “Yeah, and?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Antonio sat opposite him. A moment of,  _is this really okay?_ and  _what if this blows up in my face?_ But Lovino sank down on the sofa chair in front of him and smiled. It was an inviting, friendly smile that softened his features and warmed Antonio’s chest. “Tell me about your guitar playing,” Lovino said, though his voice was slightly questioning, more an encouragement than a demand.

Antonio scratched the back of his head. “I mostly just play covers of my favourite songs. Nothing creative. It’s just for fun. I’m not aiming to be a professional musician or anything. I got my degree in finance, actually! But the economy is down so it’s been hard to get a job. I have an interview next week, though!” And as he said it, Antonio bit down on his cheek. He hadn’t even told his family about that. He’d started keeping his job interviews to himself, because he never seemed to get a call back. He blamed it on the economy, on the markets, but maybe he just wasn’t an impressive candidate? Either way, it did get a little disheartening.

Honestly, Antonio was in search of another passion. He couldn’t make coffee all his life, could he? And he did have to find a better paying job soon, something to help with his ever-increasing rent. Antonio knew he could do any work, anything, but he really was first and foremost, a creature of passion. He needed something he loved, something that would consume him.

He wasn’t sure he’d found anything like that yet…

…But he did find himself blurting out all of this to Lovino, a boy he barely knew. And to his surprise, Lovino was listening, nodding along.

“The economy is shit,” he agreed. “But I think persistence really pays. I got rejected by like, ten other universities before I got picked for this one. I’ve been applying for two years now!”

“The question is,” Antonio mused, “is passion something you’re born with, or something you cultivate? I’ve been playing my guitar for years, but I don’t think I’m passionate about it. Like you and the violin.”

Lovino hummed. “Interesting question. I don’t know, I think it’s a bit of both. For me, I guess I’m very competitive. I like playing the violin, and I wanted to be better at it than anyone else in the world.” He chuckled at himself. “I used to think I’d be the greatest violinist that ever lived.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, the vanity. But I think it helped me improve. I guess that’s passion to me. A drive to be the best.”

“Ahh, disagree. Disagree, my friend.” He flicked his straw at Lovino. “I think passion should be something that you can return to, without the pressure of competition. Something soothing. A respite against the cruel world.”

“But if it’s just respite, you’re not compelled to improve.”

“That’s not true! I’ve improved loads with the guitar since I started.”

“But you  _just_ said you weren’t passionate about it.”

Antonio opened his mouth to argue, but then shut it so quickly, his teeth clacked together and made his temple momentarily throb. “You got me there,” he laughed. “Okay. Whatever. I’m not very quick-witted.”

“Really? Your puns were pretty great.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Dumb, but great.”

Only sunset brought an end to a conversation that twisted and turned and summersaulted between them, at times funny, at times teasing, always flirtatious, but also honest and heartfelt. Antonio stood, stretching his back and his arms. He had to lock up the café for the night. Lovino got to his feet as well.

“Are you going?” Antonio asked.

“Aren’t you closing shop?”

“Um…yeah.” He smiled coyly. “I just wanted to…” he pressed his fingers into Lovino’s hands and kissed him. It was brief, chaste, but it was enough to make Lovino go violently scarlet.

“I had a good day too,” he muttered by way of response, scratching his head and looking at his shoes. “Do you want to go to the park? I can wait for you to finish.”

“I’d love to!” Antonio chirped. His hands shook as he worked, locking up the cash, the doors, pulling down the shutters. He wondered if he would stumble over words, he wondered if Lovino allow another kiss. He wondered if he might be falling in love, or if that was just the musings of a silly old romantic.

They walked down the street, basking in the sunset. Lovino’s hand found Antonio’s. All of his wondering was silenced, replaced by calm, safe surety.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I sort of expanded the idea a little! This was fun :’) I love coffee shop AUs so much!


End file.
